Englands a punk?
by Wooly Pig Socks
Summary: I know it's been done before, but oh well. umm, beware strong language, as I kinda went all out on the swearing. basically it's England during his rebellious stage.


Originally, it was set to be a normal meeting, where the nations would talk, fight, make up and eat various types of food. However, that day was different. The nations all gathered and immediately noticed something was wrong, the usual drawings were absent and there wasn't even a whiff of tea in the air.

"Hey, where's England? He's never late..." Said America.

"Maybe he got stuck in traffic?" Russia suggested

"Or maybe he's with, _someone, _and is busy doing _things"_ France added.

"Nah, you and America are both here, it can't be that." Germany pointed out. Everyone sniggered, well, apart from Italy, who wasn't really listening, but was instead thinking about pasta.

"Hey! There is nothing going on with me and England!" America yelled, going red.

"There isn't anything going on between me and England either...yet" France added, smiling slightly pevertedly to himself.

---

"Typical France, Molesting the world, one nation at a time." said a familiar voice.

"ENGLAND!' America yelled, turning towards the source of the voice. 'WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING?".

"NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUISINESS." England screamed back at him.

"Germany! Germany! England's a PUNK!" Italy yelled. In response England gave him the finger and sat down, sticking his feet on the table. For you see, this was the Punk era in England, all about tartan, hair, piercings, pissing of your parents and most importantly ANARCHY. England had wholeheartedly embraced the punk way of life and had turned up at the meeting in his full attire. His hair was wild with blue streaks and looked unwashed, he was wearing tartan trousers with various things hanging off them, a torn vest top with the union jack on and safety pins stuck all over it. His ears were pierced, as was his nose and he had the symbol for anarchy tattooed on his arm. It was enough to make any mother cry.

---

"So, erm, England, care to explain why you are so late?" America asked

"I was wiv my mates, k?"

"That's not an excuse England."

"Fuck off America."

"No I will not 'Fuck off' as you so eloquently put it."

"Don't try that shit wiv me mate! I ain't in the fucking mood for your bullshit."

"You need to watch your language!"

"Oh don't get all high and mighty wiv me mate, I practically fuckin' raised you!"

"You may have raised me Arthur, but you never used to be like this! You used to be a gentleman! You didn't listen to rock music, or swear, or smoke, or spit on people! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?" America roared, losing his temper.

"I STARTED TO LIVE FOR ONCE ALFRED, THE WHOLE OF MY COUNTRY IS BLEEDIN LIKE THIS NOW! AND DO YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT? IT'S BLOODY FUN. SO STOP BEING SUCH AN UPTIGHT LITTLE CUNT AND ENJOY IT! AND ALSO, SPITTING IS A FORM OF BLOODY RESPECT, SO I WOULDN'T EVER EVEN **_THINK_** OF SPITTING ON ANY OF YOU!"

America stayed quiet, speechless at his old guardian's behaviour. England smiled, flipped America the finger and lit a cigarette.

'Smoking is bad for you, you know.' Russia said.

'Pfft. So? Like I actually give a shite! I live for today, cos we'll probably all be dead by tomorrow.'

'Anyway... We need to discuss-' America began, but was cut off by England yelling,

'FUCK THAT. Do you wanna know what? I'm fucking SICK of you lot trying to oppress us! WE DON'T FUCKING NEED YOUR CAPITALIST VEIWS." England soon went on to rant about everything going.

The meeting carried on this way until England decided he was bored, stole Russia's vodka, got completely Rat-arsed, jumped on the table and started singing 'Anarchy in the UK.' The other nations decided to leave him to it and organised the next meeting for whenever England stopped acting like a prat.

---

10 years later England was back to his old self.

'So what happened to Punk?' America asked.

'Punk sold out, the Anarchy became forced. No one even listens to The Clash, or The Smiths, god, not even The Sex Pistols anymore. In the end we just laid it to rest.'

'Good, so no more Anarchy and swearing?'

'America, punk may be dead, but Anarchy will never die out. We English sure as hell will make sure of that." America smirked,

"Yeah, whatever England." This time it was England's turn to smirk, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and revealed his tattoo, at the same time he brushed part of his hair back to reveal his many piercings.

"I-I thought punk was dead?" America stammered.

"Commercial punk is dead, _REAL _punk will never die." England flipped him the finger, spat in his face and walked off. America wiped the spit off confusedly, then his face light up with realisation and he smiled, happy to have earned England's respect.

* * *

**I know that this has been done to death, but i couldn't resist doing it.**

**also, yes spitting was a sort of fucked up sign of respect back then.**

**I actually did some research into this, (ok, i looked it up on wikipedia and nicked some of my dads cds) and Punk is quite interesting really, what I'd do to be a teenager back then!**

**anyway...**

**I DON'T OWN HETALIA OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS, NOR DO I OWN PUNK, THE CLASH, THE SMITHS OR THE SEX PISTOLS. WHILE I'M AT IT I ALSO DON'T OWN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE OR THE LAPTOP I'M USING RIGHT NOW, AS IT'S ACTUALLY MY DADS AND I HAVE TAKEN CONTROL OF IT ONCE AGAIN.**

**Reviews are fucking awesome.  
**


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